by Ellery Kane
I lowered my head into my hands and took a deep breath. “What are we going to do?” I asked without looking up. “It’s only a matter of time before they enlarge that image and plaster my face everywhere.”
Emma laughed to herself. “You didn’t seem to have a problem plastering my name everywhere.”
I turned to look at her, matching her sardonic smile. She was right, but still, she hadn’t even mentioned—much less tried to explain—what happened with the commander. “I guess after seeing you shoot someone, I didn’t think you were really that concerned about your image.” As I expected, Emma had no reply.
My father’s phone buzzed against the table. “Langley again,” he said, after a quick glance.
“You should answer it,” I told him. “It’ll look suspicious if you don’t.”
“I agree,” Carrie seconded. “Right now, nobody knows it’s Lex they’re looking for.” Right now. My brain stuck on those words as my father put the phone to his ear and a finger to his lips to silence us while he did damage control with Langley.
He offered a lame excuse. “I guess I must’ve fallen asleep. Yes, I heard. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” After he hung up, he groaned. “Well, guess who’s been assigned to investigate Emma’s connection to Radley?”
“Maybe I should just turn myself in, answer their questions. How bad could it be?”
“No!” Carrie and my father answered in chorus. Even Emma shook her head.
Carrie sat in the chair across from us. “Until we know how Radley fits into this, I think it’s safe to assume we should trust no one.” I couldn’t help but stare at Emma. She was watching Barbara Blake drone on about Green Briar’s treatment success rate. How could Carrie trust her?
“I don’t trust you,” I blurted out, pointing my finger at Emma. “I want to know why you were using Emovere.” Next to me, my father was nodding his encouragement so I kept going, even as she opened her mouth to reply. “Why did you kill that soldier? Did you even tell Quin what you did?”
Emma winced. “He’s dead?”
“You shot him in the chest. What did you expect?”
She crumpled onto the sofa next to me, a pained look on her face, as if I had punched her again. It was the closest she’d ever looked to crying. “I didn’t mean to kill him, but he recognized me. I know he did. He was one of the recruiting officers who tried to enlist me from rehab. And I couldn’t go back. I just couldn’t.” Her eyes pleaded with Carrie’s. “He was going to take me back—back to the Guardian Force.”
“How do you know?” my father asked.
Emma looked only at me when she answered. “Because I wasn’t using Emovere. Or Onyx. Or anything. I was clean.”
CHAPTER THIRTY - TWO
DAMAGED GOODS
“DAD, YOU FORGOT THIS,” I said, handing him his press pass at the door.
Embarrassed, he shook his head. “I’m not thinking straight. Are you okay with me leaving you alone?”
“It’s fine.” I gestured over my shoulder to Carrie and Emma. “And I’m not alone.”
“Okay.” The worry lines in his forehead hinted he wasn’t completely satisfied. “But I probably won’t be back until tomorrow.”
“I’ll call you if we need anything. I promise.” He squeezed my shoulder and headed down the sidewalk, looking back every few steps. Inside, Carrie and Emma were at the kitchen table staring awkwardly at one another. “Hungry?” I asked them. It was almost morning—still dark—but close enough for breakfast.
“Not really.” Carrie answered for both of them.
Plodding through their heavy silence, I prepared a bowl of cereal for myself and sat down. There was only one question I wanted to ask. How was Quin? But I wasn’t ready to ask it. Instead I scrolled through my missed calls and text messages as Emma snuck covert glances at Carrie, opening then shutting her mouth. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one censoring herself.
Edison’s response arrived earlier that night, a mere 48 hours or so late. Just now reading your text. Sorry! Bad texter, remember?
There were three missed calls—two from Elana and one from Percy—and two text messages from Max. Did you hear about Radley? And a few hours later: And Emma?!? Where are you? Call me!
I ran my thumbs across the screen, pondering a reply. It seemed impossible to sum up the last day and night in a text. Where would I even begin? Emma’s positive test for EAMs? Her holding me at gunpoint—then shooting and killing a soldier? Witnessing Radley’s suicide? No, I’d start with Emma’s bloody nose. I half smiled to myself, clicking on Percy’s voicemail.
He sounded nervous, his nasally voice a bit squeakier than I remembered. “Hi, Lexi. I mean, Lex. It’s Percy—uh, Percy Danforth—I was just calling to tell you I had a great time with you the other night. Um … so, yeah. I’d love to hang out again. If you want to, of course. No pressure, though. Just give me a call. Or text … or email … well you know what to do.” Lousy timing, Percy. Really lousy timing. I laughed without meaning to.
“What’s so funny?” Emma asked, scowling at me.
“Nothing.” I placed my phone on the table and met her eyes. I was ready to start asking questions. “So how well did you know Peter Radley?”
Emma looked at Carrie with uncertainty. “It’s okay,” Carrie assured her. “I showed Lex and her father the Recovery Analysis results for you and Peter.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Emma asked, her face reddening. Then with no answer from Carrie, she looked at me. “So Carrie told you I’m damaged goods, huh?” She snickered, but it seemed pretend. That nettling worm of sympathy dug its way a little deeper.
“You don’t know that for sure,” I said. “Besides, it’s not your fault. Those drugs should’ve never been created in the first place.” I wondered if my mother would’ve agreed with me.
The irony wasn’t lost on Emma. “That’s pretty rich coming from Victoria Knightley’s daughter.”
I shrugged. “I loved my mom, but I didn’t always agree with her.” Emma grumbled a little under her breath, but she didn’t argue.
“I didn’t really know Peter at all until we got to rehab. He was always writing me weird poetry. I guess he sort of had a crush on me.” Of course he did. I remembered Edison’s description of Guardian Force Emma batting her eyelashes. “After our final test results came back, we were recruited for a special mission. That’s what they called it.”
“Mission?” I raised my eyebrows at the word. “What did they tell you about it?”
“Not much. You didn’t learn the details unless you enlisted, but they made it very clear that our scrambled brains wouldn’t be a problem.” She paused to look at Carrie. “I never told you this part. They said we could keep taking Emovere and Agitor—even Onyx—if we wanted to.” If Carrie was surprised, she didn’t show it.
“Did Peter leave right after you?” Carrie asked.
“I’m not sure. I didn’t see him again until I went to an anti-EAM rally. That’s where I met Quin and Mr. McAllister.”
“Didn’t you ask him what happened?” I wondered. Emma frowned at me, as if the answer was obvious. She gave a labored sigh.
“Of course, but he was different. Quieter. Withdrawn. A loner. I just gave up after a while.”
I asked the only question I had left. “And Quin? Did he say anything else last night?”
“About?” Emma’s tone was coy.
“Never mind.”
I put my bowl in the sink and headed for the sanctuary of my bedroom. I flopped down on the bed, watching as Artos nudged the door open with his nose, padded inside, and squeezed himself into the small space next to me. “How do you always know when I need you?” I whispered to him. I ran my hand down the length of his fur again and again, until we both closed our eyes.
It seemed only seconds later Artos’ whining woke me—but outside my window, it was still twilight. Emma was standing over me, her hand hovering above my arm. “You’ve got to stop doing that,” I said. “Un
less you want to get punched again.”
She smiled. “Well … it would give me an excuse to hit you back.”
“Touché.”
Suddenly serious, Emma lowered her voice. “There’s something I didn’t tell you.” She looked down at her feet. “I didn’t think you’d want Carrie or your dad to know.” I sat up, pushing Artos from the bed and frowned at her. “Alright, alright. I wasn’t sure I was going to tell you at all. Ever. But, Quin told me to ask you to meet him.”
“When?” Ugh. I sounded annoyingly eager.
“Tonight just after the curfew.”
I took a breath and calmed my voice. “Where?”
She shrugged. “He didn’t tell me. He said you’d know where.”
I nodded. “Anything else?”
She shook her head. “There was no time. One of Xander’s guys came around the corner—that mean-looking one who pushed Edison—and I had to make a run for it.”
“Valkov,” I muttered. “Did he see you?”
She laughed. “He chased me. I heard Quin tell him I was just a fan, you know, wanting to meet him after the interview, maybe get a picture or an autograph.”
It was impossible not to laugh. “Sounds believable.”
She rolled her eyes. “This coming from the president of the Quin McAllister fan club.”
“That’s Madame President to you,” I said, and we both giggled.
Mid-laugh, Emma paused at the door. “I’m sorry I left you at the checkpoint,” she said. “I didn’t want to, but—”
“I know,” I interrupted. “I guess it’s time I learn how to drive a motorcycle.” I gave her a wink.
CHAPTER THIRTY - THREE
A LITTLE KINDER
“ARE YOU SURE you can handle this?” Emma asked me, running her hand along the length of her cherry red motorcycle fender. It purred steadily beneath me, on the verge of a roar. “She’s my baby. I need you to bring her back in one piece.”
“They say a student is only as good as the teacher,” I teased.
A cocky smile played on her lips. “Well then, I guess I have nothing to worry about.” Emma was right. She was a surprisingly good teacher—showing me the ins and outs of riding in a couple of hours. Still, I was nervous. The bike seemed to have a life of its own, a pounding heartbeat that was much quicker and much more reckless than mine.
“What should I tell Carrie?” she asked. “She’ll be awake soon.”
“Tell her the truth. I’m sure she’ll understand.”
“And your dad?” Emma raised her eyebrows. “What if he comes back before you?”
I shrugged. There was no right answer. “Same. Maybe just soften it a little—if you can.”
“Soft, it is,” she said, with a nod of her head. “By the way, do you know where you’re going?” Her voice turned up at the end with an uncertain lilt. I knew she was curious. I didn’t answer, just revved the engine a little and grinned.
She offered a reluctant half smile. “Alright, alright. I get it. You win.” For a moment, she seemed wistful, and I wondered if she was thinking about Quin. “You’re still a goody-goody. You know that, right?”
Just like she taught me, I squeezed the clutch and put the bike into first gear. I felt my pulse accelerate, matching the motor’s rumble as I made a circle around her. “But I’m a goody-goody who can ride.”
Elana was waiting for me on the bottom step of Mr. Van Sant’s porch, her face illuminated by a halo of light from the street lamp. As I brought the bike to a shaky stop in the driveway, dragging my feet against the pavement, I watched her eyes narrow then widen. Her jaw dropped.
“Lex?” She hesitated before taking a step toward me.
“It’s me.”
“I didn’t know you could … ” I could feel her staring over my shoulder as she hugged me. “Is that Emma’s bike?”
“It’s a really long story. We should go inside.” I started up the staircase, but she grabbed my arm, pulling me back. Her face was clouded with worry.
“Did you go through the checkpoint?”
“Of course.” Despite my near collision with a traffic cone, I sailed through unseen. Emma had swiped a license plate and swapped it with her own just in case the soldiers were still looking for her bike. As it was, no one seemed to notice.
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Have you seen the news? SFTV has been showing that video all day. They’re looking for you. And Emma.” She paused. “I mean, they think you’re Emma.”
“How could you tell it was me?” She stood motionless, her face blank. Fear began to creep up around me like a twisted vine anchoring me to the ground. “Elana?”
“I wasn’t sure at first,” she finally answered. “I thought I recognized your jacket.” She took a deep breath. “You haven’t seen it, have you?”
“Seen what?” I croaked, feeling strangled.
“About an hour ago, they started showing your face. Up close. It’s grainy, and they’re still calling you Emma, but … ”
I swallowed hard, then nodded. I knew it would happen, but not this soon.
“Why were you at Green Briar? Why were you run—”
“Hey, Red,” Edison poked his head out from behind the door and gave me a sly grin. “At least let her come in before you interrogate her.”
“Sorry,” Elana said, ushering me up the stairs. “I am in desperate need of an update.”
I squeezed her shoulder as we went inside. “It’s okay. I’ve been dying to talk to you too.” I knew exactly where to start. I snickered a little. “I punched Emma in the face.”
Elana guffawed. “Oh my—”
From the foyer, Edison shushed us, then pointed. I followed his finger into the living room, where his father sat perched on the edge of the sofa, his broad, suited shoulders leaning forward, as if he was preparing for takeoff. “He doesn’t like to be disturbed when he’s watching the news,” Edison whispered. “It’s his quiet time.”
“Son, stop spouting off and get in here!” Mr. Van Sant didn’t turn around, but his voice descended like the head of a misguided hammer, fracturing quiet time with one blow. Edison flinched. Meeting Elana’s gaze, we both snickered. It was a relief to laugh with her, but it didn’t last. My eyes settled on the over-sized television screen. Just behind the ever-composed Barbara Blake was my face. Blurry, almost indiscernible, but mine nonetheless.
“Ms. Knightley, may I have a word with you?” Mr. Van Sant finally stood and faced me. His tie was loosened at the neck, his shirt untucked. Disheveled, he was no less intimidating.
“Uh, um, yes.” Edison nudged me forward, and I forced my feet to move, stumbling a little.
“Sit down.” I sat, of course. Mr. Van Sant loomed next to me, his large hand clawing the arm of the chair. “What were you doing at Green Briar?” His tone was calm but forceful. And for an agonizing moment, I imagined being on the witness stand opposite him—The Nicholas Van Sant. He’s on my side, I reminded myself.
“My father and I went there to see Radley.” I didn’t mention Carrie. I wanted to protect her as long as I could.
“Why?”
“A hunch,” I offered weakly.
“A hunch?” Mr. Van Sant paced away, then made a rapid turn back in my direction. Elana watched me over Edison’s shoulder, both so silent, so still, I wondered if they were breathing.
“A hunch and Sebastian Croft.” Mr. Van Sant cocked one eyebrow. “He showed up at my house yesterday asking questions—with a visitor’s badge from Green Briar he didn’t want me to see. He knew Radley. They were friends.” I made air quotes with my fingers. “On the Internet.”
Edison’s mouth opened a little, and Elana gasped, but Mr. Van Sant was nonplussed. “I see. And you signed in as Emma Markum?” I could feel my cheeks reddening.
“Yes.”
Unable to stay quiet any longer, Edison blurted, “Did you see Radley? Did you talk to him?” I waited for his father to scold him for interrupting, but Mr. Van Sant appeared far more in
terested in my answer than in correcting his son’s subpar etiquette.
“I saw him jump.” I looked down at my hands folded in my lap, but I could only see Radley’s arms, red and raw from scratching. I closed my eyes and opened them again, hoping to reset my memory.
Mr. Van Sant said nothing. He returned to the sofa across from me and ran a tense hand through his hair. When he finally spoke, there was urgency in his voice. “Did he say anything? Anything at all?”
“Not much,” I told him. “He said he’d failed at his mission by getting caught, and he thought I was there to kill him. He used something String brought him. Emovere, I guess. He had a vial with a syringe.”
“Did he mention Steele?”
“No.” I couldn’t shake the feeling Mr. Van Sant knew something I didn’t. “Why?”
“I think you’re in danger.” I felt the hairs on my neck raise. It wasn’t his words but the way he said them that sent a shot of ice through my veins. “I have a contact at the police station. Steele’s pressuring them to find this Emma Markum—” He gestured toward the television. My picture was gone, replaced by an image of Peter Radley dressed in his Guardian Force garb. “—to find you.”
“But that doesn’t make sense,” I said, arguing against the tightening knot in the pit of my stomach. “I thought Xander would be relieved to see Radley gone.”
A concerned Edison joined his father on the sofa. For the first time, I noticed a matching furrow between their eyebrows. “Xander believes Radley told you something. That’s what we suspect,” Edison explained. “Maybe something incriminating.”
I scoured my memory, replaying Radley’s words, inspecting each one for traces of Xander. Finally, I shrugged. “He said String told him someone would come to force him to talk, but he didn’t mention—” Xander. Before his name left my mouth, I saw him, a headline running beneath his powder-white face. Zenigenic To Make Major Announcement. “Turn it up,” I said, directing Mr. Van Sant to the remote. Barbara Blake was reporting.